


Like The Stars Miss The Sun in The Morning Sky

by gackt_gratia



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Multi, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gackt_gratia/pseuds/gackt_gratia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dusk sky is clear as the last sun ray slowly leaves  the horizon in of the Valinor. The great land of peace, yet for Legolas Thranduilion, the coming evening is anything but peaceful. The tolling bells which haunts him still even after months he had set his feet upon the Undying Lands with his dearest friend but not his dearest heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Stars Miss The Sun in The Morning Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One Last Adventure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290315) by [LittleLynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn). 



It will be a night full of stars. The dusk sky is clear as the last sun ray slowly leaves  the horizon in of the Valinor. The great land of peace where the firstborns live immortally with the Lords and the Queens of Valar.

Yet for Legolas Thranduilion, the coming evening is anything but peaceful. He feels  naught but turmoil inside his mind. The merry night of star lit sky will do nothing but burdens his heart. The gentle soothing of the moonlight will only ail him further. He hears none of the song of the trees which have sung to ease his woe, but the tolls of the bells. The tolling bells which haunts him still even after months he had set his feet upon the Undying Lands with his dearest friend but not his dearest heart.

 

***

This morn, everything was quite as normal as other mornings in Thranduil’s abode where Legolas has chosen to live with. Legolas was breaking his fast together with him and Bard who was laughing at the jokes told by Gimli.

It was such a shock for Thranduil to learn that his only son had come to Valinor with a dwarf beside him. Yet, one look at his beloved son, he knew he should welcome this particular dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin to his home if he wanted to fix his tie to his beloved son. Not to mention, years spent together contently with his human lover might have softened his heart and chose to ignore the years long scorn toward the dwarven race.

The morning scene is just quite normal because ever since his son came to live with him in Valinor, Thranduil knew something is amiss. Whilst Legolas has looked all normal in the surface, had hugged him tight on the day they met for the first time, had firstly surprised but respected Bard, his lover when he introduced them both, had attended meals together with his family, his brethren and his ring bearers friends, he had this disquiet air surrounded.

He lives, he laughs with his friend but Thranduil notices the way his son sometimes looks at Bard wistfully. But most of the time he just looks at him blankly, as if he tries hard to deny the mere presence of the bowman. If his lover had noticed this, he knew not because Bard has yet to say anything to him. Not only the stares but Thranduil also notices how his son has wonderfully mastered the art to avoid being with Bard but still looks as courteous and welcoming as ever.

This peculiar manner has extended not only to Bard but also to the Peredhels. While this might be wrong, seeing that Thranduil himself is not that close to the House of Elrond. But he caught glimpses on how his son expertly eluded his steps from Elrond’s kin. Not to mention, Elrond’s daughter, Arwen Undomiel. He often catches her resigned and sorrowful stares trail upon his son.

Her arrival at Valinor with her brothers in tow had been a surprise to them all.  Thranduil remembered the day when the last batch of the ships from Middle Earth had docked on the Valinor. No one had expected the Evenstar lady to step down, much less Elrond. He who was strolling with Bard, witnessed how Elrond had run toward his beloved daughter and the tears that trailed on his face. He also heard of the whispers of how Elrond and his children wept in sorrow of their loss.

And through all of this news, Thranduil noted how his son had kept the arm length distance between him and them. He had observed circumstances where Legolas almost reluctantly hugged the Undomiel, how strained his smile and laughter on the twin’s jokes as well as how he kept being distant yet polite toward the friendly elf lord even though his dwarven companion has lightened upon their arrivals and the warmth and the friendliness of the Peredhels.

The only offer of companion that his son has tolerated or more of has relented on the persistence of sheer stubbornness is his dwarven friend, Gimli. Thranduil has noticed how the dwarf has never let his elf friend alone, how he has dogged the every step his son had gone. It is only the dwarf’s touches that his son has permitted freely. It is only him whom his son has shared his ailment and silently Thranduil thanks the Valar that at least the dwarf’s mulishness is once being useful.

Hence, tonight, Thranduil feels no peace regardless the presence of his beloved and how tranquil the night is. It seems that Bard has also felt the restlessness of his spouse even if he has said nothing but has offered the comforting touches.

 

***

Legolas sits on the window sills of his room, looking afar toward the sea. The night is still young and there are hours to dawn. He knows what importance of today. It is the anniversary. It is the day when the bells tolled miserably.

It is time and Legolas rises from his seat and walks to the dressers. He picks up the comb and the box where it contains the item dears to his heart. He gathers the tunic and the robe he has prepared for tonight. He enters the bathing chamber.

 

***

Gimli, who usually spends the evening on the porch with his pipe, instead is polishing both of his axe in the foyer of the second floor. He hums lightly whilst sharpening the edges of his axes and polishes them until they glow underneath the light. He knows what day is today and there will be no excuse to miss the anniversary. Not to mention, if he does not accompany the idiot elf friend of his, who knows what may happen. After all he has also promised to take a good care of him in his stead.

So no, today the bloody elf may have his own bizarre rituals but Gimli will be right beside him and laughs at the tree hugger’s antic. Who knows that the elf will actually hug a tree? Nope, a dwarf will not miss this day. No matter what.

Yet, deep down his heart, Gimli swears in Khudzul because he knows the graveness of the coming night. He prays to Mahal that some sense is knocked onto the blonde-haired elf he has come to cherish as friend. A friend he knows needs of comfort, especially today.

 

***

The night sky has completed risen on the plain of Valinor. Legolas does not bother to dry himself after the cool bath he has just taken. He lets the air cooled his skin before he puts on a shimmering white underclothes, then a white elven tunic with pale silver embroidery which fits onto his lean body. He fastens a silvery white sash around his waist and ties it in a simple knot.

Legolas takes up the comb and begins to comb his loose hair, which is free from the confinement of his usual braids. The golden tresses are loose and straight, framing his ever youthful face in an unfamiliar way. It gives the illusion of softness and ethereal.

Legolas puts back the comb and he grabs on the box. He opens it slowly and inside rests a long white metal necklace with a star pendant. The star is used not to belong to him. It was given to him by his dearest. The only piece he had even owned which belonged solely to him and was gifted of his own valor, not heirlooms or something given by the status he had in his later years. It is the star brooch which marks one as the ranger of the north.

The star brooch is simple. It is a five pointed star and it is made of ordinary metal yet the metal has endured years of hard work and long roads. It has seen smiles, laughter, love, tears, sweat and blood. It is the silent witness of his valiant owner’s life. When it was given, the star was polished until it gained some of his original luster yet weathered as it was, the shine is never bright. The chain interlocked with the brooch is also made of the same metal as the star. Both of them seems dull compared to his father’s sparkling jewels. Yet it befits him, humble oft overlooked but resilient in its quiet way. And it is now his gift, the most treasured treasure.

Legolas reverently picks up the necklace and slowly he lifts up the long metal chain and loops it over his head and hair. The star rests on the center, right beside his beating heart. Silently the elf wails as memories come to him. He leans forward and grips on the dresser’s edge. Feeling the edge of it bites into his palm. He takes a shuddering breath and wonders if he can survive this night. The wound has barely healed even after the passing time.

Steeling himself, he sighs. He closes his eyes briefly. He grabs on the star and silently prays for strength, looking for a guidance of his dearest heart to give him strength. Time waits to no one and later he can grieve. Right now, he has to do this.

Legolas grabs the robe he has laid on the bed and dons the outer robe. The robe is made of rich white fabric with embossed pattern. Then lastly, he picks up the white stole made of pure white silk. He drapes it over the robe and let its tail trails on the ground. He carefully tucks in both his wrists and his hands beneath it.

Straightening himself, Legolas sees his reflection on the mirror. He is all decked in white with hair undone and unadorned of any of sparkling jewels. Tis the custom of his elven race when one mourns for his or her beloved heart.

Back in Middle Earth, he had no luxury to mourn for him properly as the one who was dear to his heart but only as a friend. But here, in Valinor, no men shall judge him and this is the least he can do to quell the sorrow and deafening his mind of the endlessly tolling bells.

 

***

When Legolas descends the stairs, Thranduil feels his a stab of pain on his heart when he sees what his son has worn. Never has he imagined that his son will ever wear what he had worn decades ago when his beloved wife passed to the Hall of Mandos. The royal mourning robe of Eryn Lasgalen.

“ _Ai, ion nin_.”

Legolas bows, “ _Adar_.”

Thranduil quickly approaches his son and gathers him into his embrace. He kisses his son between his brow and rests his forehead on him. He notices the lackluster star pendant which stands out among the stark whiteness of the robe.

“I grieve with thee.”

He whispers, feeling abject with what his son has felt.

The tender moment is broken by a loud clearing throat noise from behind, clearly coarse as dwarven voice usually is. Thranduil silently growls and quickly spins around to give the loud dwarf his piece. Yet before he can reprimand his son’s friend, he sees just behind the dwarf is an entourage of elves and there at the front is Arwen Undomiel who wears all black.

Her radiant face is hidden by a black mourning veil, as customary of men’s tradition. She wears a silver circlet of Imladrian design. The embroidery on her black velvet gown is of a simple interwoven white and grey threads.

“It is time, laddie.”

The gruff voice from the dwarf reminds Thranduil of his presence. He glances on Gimli who wears his armor fully, as per dictated by dwarven mourning habit.

Arwen Undomiel bows to greet the elven king, “ _Alla, Aran-nin Thranduil_.” Her soft voice is slightly muffled by the shimmering black veil.

Thranduil nods. He releases his son.

Legolas bows toward his father then he hesitantly approaches the Evenstar. Never it has crossed his mind that he has to share this day with her. He has intended to slip out silently and be spent in his sorrow all by himself or perhaps with just his ever loyal dwarf friend. Yet, here she is, standing and expecting him. Ah how he can deny her? What right he has to put on the mourning garb meant only of one's lover? Caught in his own turmoil, he thus, is surprised when the lady grabs his hands.

Arwen feels the uncertainty and how the Silvan prince wishes to flee. But no, today, there will be no hiding of her dear friend. She knows of his heart as well as the person she called as her husband. Both of them called for each other, their souls intertwined in the a manner that she could never interfere.

“Let us go now, Legolas.”

Arwen leads them off. She keeps her hand clasped upon his and together, the pair leads the way, the black and white which are contrasting each other. The mourning pair leaves, that is followed by the dwarf and the twin sons of Elrond who wear the traditional deep grey Imladrian mourning robes.

It comes to Thranduil who has dared to break his son’s heart. It is no man nor elf which he can avenge on. It is the ghost of Aragorn, son of Arathron, the rightful heir of Elendil of Isildur’s heir, one of the greatest king of Gondor and Arnor.

A touch on his elbow has awakened Thranduil from his musing. He turns and he finds to look at his human lover who is still beside him. He feels the sudden tightness in his chest. He grabs the said human and hugs him tightly.

Bard says nothing on the way his elven lover acts. He keeps silent and tries to soothe the clearly agitated elf. After a moment, he draws off from the embrace and looks up.

“We should go with him.”

Thranduil nods.

 

***

The procession walks toward the beach where the sea overlooks the land of men. Once close to the beach, Arwen releases her hold from the Greenwood prince.

Legolas turns his companion, the rightful Queen of Gondor, spouse to Elessar Telcontar. He can faintly see the smile behind the veil.

“Go, Legolas. Give us your guidance, lead us.”

“But–“

Arwen smiles, “Tis your right, as well. He treasures you like you have treasured him all this time. His heart belongs to you as your fae calls and sings of his soul. You are his beloved, a dear to his heart.”

Legolas is silent. He is surprised to hear no judgment only acceptance from the one who had lawfully wedded the ranger.

“I–”

Arwen once again takes Legolas palms. She squeezes them in reassurance, “I had my chances, Legolas. Now, I am no queen of Gondor. I am just Arwen Undomiel, foster sister to Estel Elrondion.”

“Arwen...”

“I love him, Legolas, and still do. But this is your time. Too long you have hidden your feeling, but now you do not have to any longer. I know he asked you not to grieve but I know your heart grieves still. Take your time and relish in your woe, _mellon_. Time will heal if you let yourself to grieve.”

Legolas slowly nods and says, “Thank you, Arwen.”

Arwen smiles and relinquishes her hold. She stands aside as the Silvan prince slips off his boots and walks barefoot on the soft white sand to the sea, seeming ignorant to the leaping waves which wets the edges of his robe.

“You are very kind, lady.”

Arwen looks down to the dwarf who now is standing beside her.

“So are you, master dwarf.”

They keep silent and vigilant as their friend wades the sea and stands still when half of his calves fully immersed in the sea water.

“He needs all the help that we can offer.”

Gimli looks up to the elf lady and gruffly says, “Of course he is. What will he do without someone to knock a sense into him?” He huffs then takes a hold of her right hand, “So do you, lass.”

Arwen laughs and lets a tear trails off behind her veil. But, she tightens her grip on the hand held by the warm yet coarse leather of dwarven gloves.

 

***

Alone now with his friends behind him, Legolas is grateful of the privacy. He again grabs on the star pendant. He looks up to the starry sky. He offers a pray to Varda. Then he bents and offers both of his hands to Ulmo. He straightens up palms up to the sky for Manwe whilst holding the white stole still.

Legolas sings the song of the passing in Quenya added by the sways of trees and the rustles of leaves. The forest cries with him and the waves soothe him. He closes his eyes and freely lets his tears run down from both his eyes. He sings his grief. He mourns of the love he has lost. He prays to Manwe of his hope to be reunited with his love one day.

 

***

Thranduil arrives with Bard not long before he sees his son walks alone toward the sea and offers his pray to the Valar. He hears the melodious voice of his son sung soulfully. His heart weeps with the sorrow his son feels. It is the touch of his lover which grounds him, helps him to stand strong amidst the torrent of agony and not think of what ifs. What if he, too, is forced to be parted from the bowman.

Bard is silent beside his lover. He wears all black as per men tradition when one mourns for another. He keeps his hand in hold with the elven king who is also wearing white tunic but of much simpler design. He squeezes his hand when he hears the sorrowful notes sung by Legolas in a language he does not understand. It is elvish but unlike the one he has learnt. It is more ancient and more haunting, befits of the somber mood.

There is Elrond, Lord of Rivendell and his beloved wife, Celebrian. Both are standing stoically but everyone can see how the lord, too, laments upon the man he has called son. They are also wearing the grey mourning robe, hair loose without any ornaments save the simple circlet rested upon the brows. His wife takes the role of Bard’s comforting role.

Beside them are their twin sons, wearing the identical grey mourning robes, Lord Elladan and Elrohir. Their hands clasp tightly onto each other as they look across the vast ocean. They reminisce of the man they had called as their _tithen muindor_ , Estel. The human they had taken care ever since young. There are also other elves like, Lord Glorfindel, the captain of Imladris border and Lord Erestor, the seneschal who is also young Estel tutor.

Then the last but not the least are the hobbits, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, both who shared an adventure with the man known as Strider. The last hobbit is Bilbo Baggins who has come to know Estel the bright young boy and the young man who had easily chosen exile than to take up the mantle of the kingship he had deemed he was unworthy of such.

Together they stand and keep vigilant.

 

***

Time has passed yet the song still sung. One by one the attendees leave until few left. The hobbits and the elf lords of Rivendell have left first. Then few hours before the dawn comes, Arwen, escorted by both her brothers, too leaves. She bestows a kiss on the dwarf and bows to Thranduil before she departs.

Until the dawn comes, there are only Thranduil, Bard and Gimli who stay. The song stops just at the time when the first ray of the sunrise shines. Then all is silent once again.

Thranduil breaks the hold of his lover and approaches his son who stand still with waves laps over his calves. He quietly stands beside his son.

“I oft ask myself of what if. What if I asked him to come and sail with me here, like you have asked of the King of Dale.”

Thranduil realizes the many stares he has seen his son sent to his lover. A great regret mixed with envy.

“But he asked me not to." Legolas chokes on his sorrow. His throat feels tight as his eyes are burnt by another fresh bout of tears.

"He had readily accepted his death, a fate as a mere mortal. On his last day, he asked of me, he made me promise not to fade but keep strong and lean on Gimli. He knew he had my heart upon his hands. But as kind as I ever know him since, he asked me to live.”

Legolas stops and looks down at his hands solemnly. They are wet, as wet as the stole. He contemplates for a moment then he turns to look at his father. His face is stricken by the wet trails of fresh tears.

“ _Amin mela ho, Adar. Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea ho au’_.”

Thranduil cannot say anything to comfort his miserable son. He only raises his hand and gently wipes the tears off. He then hugs his beloved son.

 

***

“He must be a wonderful man.”

“Aye, he was. He was a good lad, a good king, a man I am proud to call as my friend.”

“Tell me about him.”

Gimli stares at the human on the incredulous request. He raises one of his eyebrow, silently asking whether he is serious or not. Seeing the used to be king looks down at him sincerely, he harrumphs grumpily.

“Well, seeing both our elves are still taking their time frolicking in the sea, why not.”

Then Gimli takes out his pipe, lights it up deftly and puffs out the smoke. He weaves strings of words between the puffs as he keeps his eyes on both the elves.

Bard listens to the brusque voice as the dwarf tells him tales of the King of Gondor. His mind wonders on Aragorn, the man who might have been his son-in-law, should his husband’s son, Legolas whom he has regarded as his own son, decide to bring him here. Alas, the man had passed and all left is memories. He looks at his elven lover and thanks the Valar of the chance he has to be together with his beloved in this land.

 

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s notes:  
> 1\. Ai, ion nin – Ah, my son  
> 2\. Adar – father  
> 3\. Alla, Aran-nin Thranduil – Hail, my King Thranduil  
> 4\. Mellon – friend  
> 5\. Tithen muindor – little brother  
> 6\. Amin mela ho, Adar. Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea ho au’ – I love him, father. My heart shall weep until I see him again  
> 7\. I do not know what posses me to write this but this fic is spurred by the ficlet written by LittleLynn [One Last Adventure](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3290315). I ponder on what Legolas might react when he sees Bard together with his father yet he is denied of his own human lover union.  
> 8\. Sources of Elvish translation: [here](http://www.grey-company.org/Circle/language/phrase.htm), [here](http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/phrases.html), [here](http://tara.istad.org/sind-phrases.htm).  
> 9\. Unbetaed  
> 10\. Spell-checked by Microsoft Word 2010


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